Magie
by NightingaleB21
Summary: You doubted you'd be able to explain that feeling with science, despite believing that science could explain everything. Whether it was magic or love, you believed.


**Hey guys, this is my first Orphan Black history so I hope you enjoy it. English is not my first language so I have to dedicate a spacial thanks to my beautiful friend Bruna who translate this for me. I love you, little girl. **

**AU. So, enjoy it. **

* * *

You can perfectly remember all the times you've seen her.

The first time, you were eight years old, and you were mindlessly playing with a lizard at the small park. You turned to your side, on pure reflex, your curls bouncing with the combination of movement and the fresh breeze and then you saw her.

Standing on the other side of the huge sandbox, wearing a pink sundress that stopped short on her knees; blonde shoulder length curly hair, much different from your own. She waved and you turned, wanting to know if she was actually waving at you. When you looked at her direction, she wasn't there anymore. And, on your eight-year-old innocence, you asked yourself if you should get new glasses, thinking that everything had been nothing but a mirage. You were more and more sure it had been just a dream as days went by, and the blonde girl never showed up again.

The second time you saw her, you had Just turned 14. You were dreaming about an adventure into the wild, finding out about plants and animals you've never seen before, and deep down you knew all these discoveries would turn you into a great scientist; and everyone would search through your articles and a lot of students would apply to be part of your own research team.

In the middle of your dream, she showed up again. Her golden locks reflected the sunlight that reached you between the leaves of the giant trees on the forest. She walked towards you, barefoot, and you wanted to warn her about how dangerous it was, ask her if she wasn't worried about the possible snakes crawling on the ground, leaves scattered all around. But she smiled at you and forgot how to keep your lungs functioning properly.

The blonde girl took your hand in between hers, and her warm touch made your cheeks flush. Out of embarrassment, you kept staring at your joined hands. You studied all the marks on her pale palm, trying to memorize every little detail, such as the tiny brown mark on the center of her right hand. After what seemed like years, that warm hand found a place under your chin, making you look into beautiful brown eyes.

"We'll find each other. I will find you." She smiled so brightly at you that, without even questioning it, you believed all the words she said. Your heart sped up, and, suddenly, you were looking at you room's ceiling, thousands of star stickers glued over the blue painting. Your chest tightened and you couldn't tell whether you wanted or not to believe the blonde girl's words.

You were 18 when you started to research science thesis online. You college tutor had given you an assignment about the different types of cells, and, although it was almost an elementary subject and you knew by heart the name of at least a dozen different cells, you still couldn't help the excitement of studying exactly what you loved.

You were in front of your computer for at least five hours when you read the French name. "Delphine Cormier." Something inside you warmed up to those tiny words. Even though you didn't know why or how, you caught yourself browsing through that thesis, whose language wasn't yours, understanding random words here and there when those were written in English. At that moment, you decided you were going to learn French, no matter how long it took.

Two years later, you knew enough French to read all the eighty pages without the help of a dictionary. After reading all of that, you were thirsty for more knowledge and you looked up her name on the academic search engine website, two more thesis published. That girl was certainly brilliant and, the more you read, the more you wanted to meet her. It was a strange feeling, but something just caught your attention in that name. If you weren't such a reasonable person, you'd say it was magic. But you didn't believe in magic.

When you finished Delphine's other two thesis, you were already 21. All of your college work, essays and assignments, researches, the hours you spent at the lab had postponed your reading more than you'd have liked. At the end of the third assignment, you found a contact e-mail address, and the smile on your face was completely spontaneous. You wrote about your researches, small theories and about how the _whatsherfac_e girl had a brilliant mind, with a little apology footnote, telling her that, although you had studied it for three years, French wasn't your first language.

You started talking, always in a mess of emails that changed according to your mood. Sometimes in English – you found out she knows your language – sometimes, French. You have a lot in common and the conversations about science thesis and search results turned into something more personal. You became friends, even though you thought you might have been developing romantic feelings for her.

It wasn't until you turned 22 that you talked on Skype for the first time, scheduling a good time for both of you. She lives in Paris, and you live in San Francisco and time zones are a problem. When the day comes, you keep fiddling with your hands, and they seem more out of control than they've ever been. For the first time, you will get to see Delphine Comier's face, the girl you're in love with.

You turn on the lights on your apartment at the time you've both previously agreed on, to give the girl a clearer vision of your place. You sit in front of your laptop and wait for her call and, even though you're looking pointedly at the screen, you get startled when your computer starts ringing, almost jumping out of your chair during the process. With your heart on your sleeve, you hit the green button and your screen is filled with her image.

As a scientist, you know you need to breathe in order to stay alive but, even then, you can't find the air, because the person standing in front of you is the girl that appeared to you at the park when you were still eight, the same girl who told you once, in that forest dream, that she would find you. You breathe deep and realize that yes, she has found you and, for a reason that escapes your own comprehension, you couldn't be happier than right now.

After the first time, it becomes easier to set up those video conferences. You and Delphine do it three times a week, and, as the great observer that you are, you start to learn her manners. You find out that when she finds something funny, but refuses to admit so, she'll roll up her eyes and bite her lip to suppress a laugh. You find out she scratches her forehead every time she's nervous. You find out that the little brown mark on the palm of her hand that you remember from your dream is very real.

She also learns about you. The way you wave your hands all around when you're excited; as if your limbs had a life of their own. The way you bite your tongue between your teeth when you smile. The way you pull your dreads up (and she reassured you, they're really charming) in a bun, avoiding them from hitting your face when you're too hyper. And you're always _too hyper_.

At some point, she starts calling you "brat" and you nickname her "puppy." She laughs and asks you why you'd give her that nickname, with that accent that melts your insides. You answer her, telling it's because of her eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes (you keep this last part to yourself, of course).

It's your last week of classes when she texts you. Just this little gesture tells you something has happened. She says she needs (emphasis on _really needs_) to talk to you. You barely say goodbye to Scott, your best friend, and dashes home, turning the computer on even before you change clothes. Not many rings are needed before she takes your call, a note in her hand.

You fix your glasses on your face and look more closely at the piece of paper she has in her hand. Delphine says it's important. And when you figure out what the letters and numbers mean, you can barely contain yourself with such happiness; your face lighting up with a smile so big that it makes you feel like you're going to explode. She decided to come see you. She bought a ticket to cross the ocean just to see you. Your stomach flips, weirdly, but you don't even mind because you absolutely love that girl.

Your hands, usually agitated, are now still, twitching around one another in front of your body while you ponder whether you should or not ring the bell. She already knows you're here, the hotel receptionist got your info and called her room, but you're nervous and you can't help but walk in circles for what seemed like ten minutes.

The door opened and all you could see were her blonde locks, swinging from one side to another. Her confused expressions turned into a huge smile, instantly warming up your heart. You can only think about how beautiful she is and how long you waited for that moment.

"Finally!" She hugs you fiercely, clinging so tightly to your neck that you can barely breathe, but it's fine because you can feel her scent for the first time, and she smells of soap and tutti-frutti. It's your new favorite smell. You loop your warms around her waist and finds out she's warm, even though you're only touching her shirt.

"I've found you." You think out loud, actually, you say it out loud, making her laugh and squeeze your body into hers even more. You could spend days like this, in touch with her warmth. Inside your chest, your heart is pounding hard and you can almost hear your own beats on your ears. You feel like you're home, in your 23 years of existence you have never felt this _whole_. _This_ seems like the right thing to do.

You two have six days to spend together. You choose carefully each and every one of the short trips. Your first stop is the science museum (how could it _not_ be?). You talk during almost all the way, so excited you can't even keep your hands still. They wander all around, as you dissert about each experience, talking about your lab experiments and, although it's your first day you two spend together, it feels like you've been doing it forever. You talk, and she watches you, silently, and judging by the look she's giving you, you just _know_ she's admiring you. It makes you blush, but none of you dare mention it.

It was on the second day that your lips met for the first time. You felt like being filled with hot lava, melting and burning everything inside of you, which made you sure it was exactly what you've been wanting. And she's everything you want. You want more of her soft lips and that goofy smile that appears on her porcelain face when you part.

"Je t'aime, Cosima." She whispers to you, in the middle of a bookshop, and you etch that moment in your heart. Her tutti-frutti scent, her fresh breath, the familiar smell of paper. That's your place. That's where you belong.

You stroll along the beach, you watch movies, you play-fight while you pick the worst painting at the art museum. You share little moments and you laugh so hard it makes your tummy hurt. You switch kisses and cuddles, and you don't even care when a boy (half your age) makes a snarky comment about it. You just lock hands and keep strolling through the big avenue.

Then, comes the last, dreadful day and all you wanna do is to cry. You want to cry because you've found your place in the world. Because when you locked gazes with the blonde doe-eyed girl, you felt everything making sense in your world. All the awkwardness that had always followed you, all the discomfort you'd felt around people isn't there when you're with her. And you think this is due to some kind of magic. Or maybe, love.

You're tangled up in each other, laying down on the hotel room's king size bed; staring at each other for so long that it might as well be the time for her to leave. A look at the clock tells you still have time, hours even. And you intend on spending those hours really well.

The pale warm hand brushes your cheek. You close your eyes to that comfortable touch. "I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you, Cosima." The serious tone gets a shiver down your spine. "I've had some people along the way, but none of them ever made me feel like this."

She guides your hand to her chest, and you feel heart beating wildly, in a rhythm that matches yours. That revelation makes you smile. You think you've smiled more in the past six days than in your entire life, which is _a lot_, because you're that kind of person who's always smiling.

"I saw you before, when I was a child. I dreamed of you telling me we would find each other. I think you were right, then." Your eyes opened to find her hazel ones gazing back. "Do you believe in soul mates?"

She giggles, and her nose is crinkling; you find it funny. "Maybe. Maybe I have loved for a thousand years." She gets back to giggling, and even IF it seems like a joke, you realize how serious her tone is. "Will you love me for a thousand more?"

Your answer came with lips pressed against yours, your breathing mixed on the tiny space between your bodies. It came with wandering, playful hands, running through hair locks, the soft skin on your neck, your smooth belly, the firm curve on your waist, your small butt. It came, and it filled you to your bones, and you found it hard to breathe in the middle of that sphere of feelings; you thought you'd explode, splitting yourself into thousand tiny glass pieces with such affection.

Within the next minutes, you discovered all of her hidden spots, with lips and tongue. You took her clothes and counted the freckles on her pale white skin, counted her tiny birthmarks and left your own marks, crimson colored, with the shape of your mouth and teeth.

Within the next minutes, you decided to make her feel the explosion you felt inside you. And she felt, with the arching of her back, uttering words in French that made you smile and make you feel even more of _that_ delight. On the last hours, you made your body tire and all your pores ooze with love.

"I've got to go." She whispered, with her hand on your face. You haven't gotten your breath under control yet. Your center still ached with pleasure, pleasure she has given you. You smiled, sadly, not wanting it to end. "I need to get back, Cosima."

The tears flooded your eyes before you even knew it, and you squeezed your small frame into her body. You have searched for this girl your whole life, maybe in other lives even and now she had to go home. You didn't want to let that happen. You intended to be with her forever.

"Will you come back to me?" She looked into your eyes, and you saw so much conviction that it took your breath away again. "I'm not leaving now that I've found you. I looked for you for too long to give it up like this."

You both got dressed, went to the bus stop hand in hand with heavy hearts. When her bus arrived, you could feel your world falling apart.

"I'll be back, ma chérie." She smiled and pecked your lips. Then she gave you the most beautiful, though tearful smile. She stepped into the bus and you fixed your glasses to see her better. Her pale hand waved at you from the window.

You could feel more and more sure now. A unexplainable force that convinced you that Delphine Cormier was now yours and you were hers. You doubted you'd be able to explain that feeling with science, despite believing that science could explain everything. Whether it was magic or love, you believed. Because nothing in the world seemed so right as the blonde girl's hand on yours, or her lips on yours.

But that might have been the last time you remember seeing your soul mate, because the steel bus suddenly burst into ashes.


End file.
